


Always Finding Our Way Back to Each Other

by AliasFics374



Series: Remembering Home [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, F/M, Flashbacks, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Natasha loves James, Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, We didn't get any BuckyNat in CATWS I'll fix that, WinterWidow Week 2020, light mentions of abuse/torture/what did you think the Red Room would be like, winterwidow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27486730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliasFics374/pseuds/AliasFics374
Summary: Natasha is devastated by Nick Fury's death, and once Steve relays the killer's description, she knows exactly who killed him. James. Memories come flooding back and she knows that she has to find him. Because she loves him and guilt plagues her thoughts that she can't save him. But Steve eventually connects the dots and discovers that his best friend, his brother, "Bucky Barnes" has been turned into an assassin. And even more importantly, he learns that Natasha has an interesting relationship with the solider.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Series: Remembering Home [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009140
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	1. Always Finding Our Way Back to Each Other (WinterWidow)

**Author's Note:**

> Little disclaimer: this is my very first fanfic I'm posting so I really hope you like it. I'll add this onto the end notes as well, but this is only one part out of a series which I hope to extend. Anything written in Russian is translated through Google Translate, which is the best translator, but I couldn't find anything better. Please correct me if my Russian is wrong, I won't take offense. I really hope you like this concept and plot. Thank you!

“Tell me about the shooter.”

Only one thing was on her mind. Nick. One of the first people to show her a sort of kindness, though he was somebody you would least likely expect to be the “welcoming” type, was shot. Shot multiple times to be exact. Of course he didn’t trust her at first, Nick barely trusted anybody and kept his cards close to his chest, but Nat thought she had found a sense of security around the Director of Shield.

And here he was, fighting for his life as doctors and surgeons surrounded a medical stretcher. He was dying. One of the few people Natasha cared about was dying. Only proved one thing correct, that good things don’t last. The story of her life.

Natasha kept her gaze on Nick, but could see Steve’s worry out of the corner of her eye. He was horrible at sheltering his feelings. Concern, anxiety and a hint of guilt overcame his features. Guilt? Why guilt?  
He responded to her statement calmly, “He’s fast and strong…”

Great observations Rogers, she couldn’t help but think in her head. That description fit hundreds of random men. About half of the agents of SHIELD fit the description. 

“Had a metal arm,” he finished.

That caused her breath to catch in her throat, but she steadily regained her breathing, hoping that Steve wouldn’t notice. A metal arm. That could only be one person.

o0o

“This is your new trainer. For one of you, your new handler,” Madame B paced the room, eyeing each of the teenage girls lined up in front of her for a hint of a reaction. Perhaps a look of curiosity, an evaluating glance, or even a trace of fear. Natalia had to admit, he seemed intimidating. But nothing intimidated her.

Not a girl moved. Their posture perfect, heads poised and their eyes looked straight ahead. They looked at the new man, yes, but they never looked at him, rather through him.

Madame B dismissed the group of girls, only ten were left from the starting 28. It was no secret what had happened to them, in fact, most of the “eliminations” were done right in front of the other girls, yet Natalia didn’t try to keep grasp of those memories. It was better to let those things slip out of her mind, just enough out of reach so her thoughts wouldn’t dwell on it.

As she passed by the new instructor, Natalia finally got a good look at him. She evaluated him. A metal arm. If he was ever going to go on any undercover missions, it would be a pain to cover up that metallic surface that could easily reflect light. She hoped she would never have to deal with him (little did she know). 

Her eyes quickly flicked to his facial features. She watched as his own eyes, a piercing blue, tracked the girls. Their gaze connected, and it was almost as if they shared a known understanding. Things were going to change around here.

o0o

“Ballistics?” she asked. Hoping there wasn’t much of a pause between Steve’s answer and her question. Stupid memory lane.

“Three slugs, no rifling. Completely untraceable,” Maria added, looking through the glass window at the unconscious Fury.

“Soviet-made,” Natasha muttered under her breath.

“Yeah,” Maria gave her a slightly confused expression before backing away.

Of course it was Soviet-made. She didn’t expect anything less from the Winter Solider. Or as she had called him, Yasha. His aim was probably impeccable. Fury barely stood a chance, and that only pained her heart more. Why was he targeting Fury?

o0o

“You’re aim is sloppy,” he stated, unimpressed as he watched Natalia shoot a few rounds at a wooden target pinned to the wall. “I’ve been here for half a year now and you still can’t shoot properly, who taught you?”

She shrugged off the question, mostly knowing it was rhetorical. But he was wrong, not on the shooting part (the bullet holes always seemed to be to the right of the bullseye), but on the amount of time he had been there. It had been two years, though she had only seen him for a few months. The amount of girls left dwindled from ten to five. And with her eighteenth birthday arriving in ten months (or what was said to be her birthday, she didn’t really know), the “graduation ceremony” was becoming inevitable. 

Almost seeming impatient, the solider moved behind Natalia, holding her arms in place, then telling her how to adjust her feet. Once the stance was up to his standards, did he let her shoot. Round after round. Each one hit the bullseye. 

“Better,” he said and she swore he saw him give her a hint of a smile. She placed the gun down onto a table.

“Spar?” she asked. It had became their regular routine. Whatever Madame B wanted Natalia to learn, he would teach for the first half of the day. Then the afternoons were reserved for sparing.

He nodded, but Natalia was already wrapping her knuckles, knowing his answer. She tightened her short ponytail before stepping onto the mat. He stretched for a second, jumped up and down two quick times, and then positioned himself into a ready stance.

“Remember not to lead with your eyes, use distractions to mask your gaze and analyze your opponent. Eyes are the main tell…”

“It’s not mine,” she stated. And it was factual. Natalia didn’t have a tell. She had an incredibly fast reaction time without barely moving a pupil, she had multiple strategizes, never using the same one twice, as well as having the ability to analyze her opponents next move to better her fight plan.

“But I can still tell.”

“Well, then you’re not like most people.”

“That I am not.”

With that, he took the first move, nearly landing a kick to her calf.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha continues to try to seek out the Winter Solider, yet she decides that she'll need Steve's help to figure out what had happened to SHIELD and why it was now compromised.

He was dead. She didn’t show it (oh, god, she would never show it) but it hurt like hell. It hurt her heart. When was the last time her heart hurt? Nick was like a father to her. He was gone.

She rested her hand on his forehead and sucked in a breath. She never thanked him. For any of this. Never thanked him for accepting her, for giving her a second chance at life. It was one of her worst regrets.

“Natasha,” Steve’s voice brought her back out of her daze. She walked right past him. She wanted to get out of there. 

Only a few steps into the hallway and she knew Steve was following her. His speedy pace matching hers.

“Natasha!” he called again, this time he made it seem more urgent. She didn’t have time for this. James had just murdered Fury. She needed to do something, she never liked feeling so powerless. 

“Why was Fury in your apartment?” she questioned, and turned to face Steve. Again there was that guilt face. She hated every part of it. Why wouldn’t he tell her the truth? 

“I don’t know.”

He was trying, she had to give him credit for that, but his face only proved to her that he knew more than he was letting on.

Rumlow interrupted the interaction. Something about how they needed him back at SHIELD. Natasha was secretly thankful that the agents didn’t need her at the moment. Leave it to Rumlow to make her day even worse.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she quipped once she regained his attention. Quickly, she made her way down the hallway. He had stayed in place. Good. More time to get her affairs in order.

o0o

“Mapping out your plan is an important aspect of this line of work. Most missions require you to be adaptable in changing situations, but there’s a difference between adapting and entering a situation without a plan. You always need a plan,” he explained to the young widows.

This was one of her first lessons with him, still within the first month range. Nine girls, no older than sixteen, watched him explained the steps. It was the most talkative they had ever seen him. But he still didn’t say much due to the ever knowing gaze inflicted by some of the “higher ups”.

“Analyze your situation, take inventory, identify your first line of defense, your first move and the possible obstacles that would potentially compromise your mission. Know your end goal. Always know your end goal. Otherwise, you won’t make progress.”

He paused for a moment, looking each of them over.

“You must map out your plans quickly, in your head and at the spur of the moment. Seeing how I’ve seen you all analyze your opponents during sparring, this doesn’t come naturally to some of you. If you don’t have this skill, master it. If you do, master it. No excuses.”

The girls nodded, nearly in synch. 

“Thank you, Soldat,” Madame B stepped forward and sent the girls to conditioning training. Again she caught his gaze. Why? Was he targeting her? Trying to intimidate her? Other trainers had done it before, almost like one of their sick motivation tactics, yet he was different. She still didn’t know why it made her feel so uneasy.

o0o

A vending matching. He hid one of the most valuable files in all of SHIELD in a vending machine. He could’ve at least stuck a Wubba Bubba wrapper of the outside of it.

She strutted up to Steve and (almost obnoxiously) popped a bubble in his ear. Just by his reaction, he knew what she had done. He shoved her into a random closet, pulling her by the arm and then pinning her to the wall.

A small breath escaped her lungs and she looked at him with slightly confused eyes, yet didn’t give much away. She needed him. She noticed that with her planning, that she needed his intel to determine how SHIELD became compromised. It upset her, that she, a master spy, couldn’t complete this without Captain America. 

He was good company though, and she trusted him enough. After months of going on missions with him, she even considered him to be a close friend, though making friends wasn’t something she normally did.

“Where is it?” he asked. His hands squeezed around her midsection, and once again her breath seemed to have left her lungs.

“Safe,” she managed a response.

“Do better,” he shot back.

The last time she had seen him like this was when she had done her own little side mission on the Lumurian Star. And she was safe to say it surprised her. It took a lot to get “America’s Golden Boy” mad. He most definitely knew something.

“Where did you get it?” she asked instead.

“Why would I tell you?”

Hmm. She had to agree with him on that one. If she was in his shoes, she might not tell herself either. But just by the reaction she knew. She could read him like a book.

“Fury gave it to you. Why?”

“What’s on it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Stop lying!” once again, his strong grip pushed her back into the wall. He really didn’t know his strength.

“I only act like I know everything, Rogers,” she snapped back.

He looked at her for a second before turning his face towards the doorway, then back at her again. 

“I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates didn’t you?”

No, Fury hadn’t told her. But the mission was pretty simple, other than Steve’s problem with her side mission. She had connected the dots when downloading the files. It all seemed too easy.

“Well, it makes sense. The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you…” Natasha reasoned.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” he gritted his teeth.

She had to tell him something. She knew exactly who had killed Fury. She knew she could lie to him, do this on her own, but she owed him this much.

“I know who killed Fury. Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists, the ones that do call him the Winter Solider,” she took a breath. His stare burned into her. She had to say she hated the feeling. “He’s credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years.”

“So he’s a ghost story?” Steve connected the dots.

Nat sighed. She didn’t like this story, but it was her only proof.

o0o

She had watched him get wiped. Watched his memories of her become destroyed. But then, weeks later they told her he had died. Died in a mission. And she had cried over him. Left the Red Room for good. Fulfilled their dream without him. Yet here he was, trailing them with guns blazing, still under brainwashed control. Guilt filled her heart.

Each tire was shot out, in all places, as she was driving a nuclear engineer on the winding roads of Odessa. They had nearly fell over the cliff.

“Grab my hand!” she yelled at the man. His face was frantic, panicked, like he believed that this was his end. “Grab my hand!”

He eventually obeyed and she pulled him out of the car just before it tumbled into the rocky ledge below.

She scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of who did this. She knew this engineer would be a target, heck she was assigned to be his escort for that reason, but she thought she had been careful. She thought that she had left no tracks. Yet here she was. In her head, she cursed herself for not being more careful.

But then she saw him. Posted on a ledge blending in with the landscape. He hid behind a few boulders with only the tip of his gun and his metallic finger on the trigger showing.

Quickly, Natasha had covered her engineer that cowered behind her.

“We’re going to die,” he cried over and over again.

“I need you to stay behind me, don’t move. Pray if you want to, I don’t know,” she said quickly. She had never really believed in religion, not like the Red Room had ever allowed it.

A shot rang out and suddenly she felt an immense pain in her side. Her hip was bleeding, a cut straight through her lower abdomen.

She looked back up at the sniper’s post. Nobody was there. She hoped… she had thought… well what was the use. That wasn’t her James, that wasn’t her Yasha. He was the Winter Solider. The brainwashed skeleton of the man he used to be, the man she used to love.

“Hey, you alrig…” before she could even finish her sentence did she realize her engineer was unresponsive. A shot to the heart, perfect aim. Should she have expected anything less?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Natasha and Steve go on the run, it sparks memories of Natasha's first time on the run with James and how he had looked out for her.

They had made their way to a mall, hoping to find what was on the file that Fury had given Steve. 

“Shouldn’t we use a more secure computer, not one in a mall?” Steve had questioned as they took the public transit system to a nearby shopping center.

“We can cover our tracks easier in a mall. A larger population of people to blend in with, plus, I don’t own that sort of tech,” she responded under her breath. They held onto a railing as the bus moved from stop to stop, every seat seemed to be taken and Natasha hoped the middle-aged man sitting in front of them didn’t overhear their conversation.

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

“Well, I have some contacts that do, but they’re too far away. We need to get this done before SHIELD, or whatever this is, picks up our scent.”

Steve nodded. She assumed he didn’t really have a choice. This was her forte. They walked off the bus casually, though Nat could see the haste in Steve’s steps.

“First rule of going on the run is, don’t run, walk,” she sighed, annoyed as Steve once again sped up his pace and looked behind his back for the fifth time since they had entered the mall.

“If I run in these shoes they’re going to fall off.”

Natasha scoffed under her breath to his response, knowing that he probably wasn’t joking.

o0o

Everything was going smoothly, until they were caught. It was supposed to be an easy mission, one of the fist few that Natalia had been assigned to do with the Solider. They worked well together, their thoughts almost seemed linked as they communicated through just eye contact.

Madame B had been impressed by their first mission together, sifting out a spy that had stolen key information from the Russia government. In less that ten hours the man was shot dead along with his operatives. She had decided to task Natalia and the Solider together for multiple other assassination plans, as well as informational based missions.

But this one, their target being a growing mob boss who had already gained too much power in the Moscow streets, had went horribly wrong. He somehow knew they were coming.

The Solider had given her the signal that the boss was alone in his hotel room, and Natalia had sneaked in, not making a sound. The room was dark. It was at night of course, yet she had expected at least a light to be on since there was no sign of a sleeping person.

Natalia had felt a presence though, and as she turned around to face the man, a strong arm had grabbed her from behind, locking her in a chokehold. She fought quickly, twisting herself just right to escape the man’s grasp. But only then did she realize that the mob boss wasn’t alone. No, ten men, strong and tall, surrounded her.

Just as she had escaped that one chock hold, a different man was on her, pinning her to the wall with a hand holding her arms above her head. Another pressed her legs to the ground, and the third had his hand around his throat as he threw multiple punches. Natalia squirmed, trying to find a way out of their hold, but there was too many of them. Punch after punch was thrown to her gut and towards her head. Soon enough, she had lost her breath and conciseness…  
*  
She had woken up again on a thin mattress. The lights were off, but she knew somebody else was there. Her head hurt, a trickle of blood was falling down her face from her hairline. She brought her hand to her forehead, but then paused. The shifting created a new pain, one that she didn’t remember receiving.

“Don’t move,” she heard a voice tell her.

It was a man’s voice, yet it didn’t sound demanding or threatening. No, it almost sounded kind, tender. Two words that weren’t typically in her vocabulary.

Natalia felt a hand, cool and metallic, touch her leg, which was now exposed. Startled she jumped up and moved away, only to be met with more pain, though she didn’t cry out. She never cried out. Instead, she collapsed to the floor, from both the pain in her leg and the dizziness that had overcame her head.

“It’s okay, I’m helping you,” the man said again. It was the Solider.

“No,” she waved him off as he walked over to help her up.

“You got beat up pretty bad, should’ve seen the bruises they left on you. Plus two shots to your leg and some stab wounds. All no thanks to me,” he muttered as he bent down over her. “Now let me help.”

Either she was too tired or just wanted him to stop pestering, but she agreed with the slight nod to her head. The Solider picked her up from under her arms with his hands, as if she weighed nothing. She could tell he was cautious. He had seen her train, if she wanted to, she could take him out, even being injured.

Once Natalia had returned to her spot on the mattress, she spoke again while analyzing their surroundings. No windows, door was jammed shut, weapons were laid neatly on the table ready for use. They were in a “safe house”. 

“What happened? Why aren’t we back at the Red Room?” she asked and moved to start tending her her own wounds, yet he caught her wrist.

Somehow, with that nearly indestructible and immensely strong metal arm, he gently put her hands into her lap, then applied pressure to the gunshot wounds with a wet piece of cloth. Why was he doing this? Her mind told her to get up and out of his reach, like before, yet something else told her to stay? What on earth was telling her to let him do this?!

“The Red Room won’t be pleased with either one of us for returning with our mission uncompleted. I asked for extra time.”

Natalia winced at the statement. Getting the higher-ups to agree to extending a mission was challenging and they barely agreed. Even if so, punishment was usually awaiting. 

“So when do we re-pick up the mission?” she asked and took in a sharp breath as he threaded a needle through her skin. The gash was large, and Natalia had assumed that it wasn’t just a bullet wound, possibly a knife had grazed the area. 

The Solider stopped and looked at her. She quickly nodded for him to continue, then looked away. It didn’t even hurt that much, why would she let it show? In front of her trainer? She was due for a slap to the face.

But he didn’t slap her, he continued the stitches carefully, and made sure that the needle tip never touched the open gash. 

“Yes, once you heal we’ll track them…”

“But I’m…”

He gave her a look that shut her up. He wasn’t going to leave this safe house until she was healed, and she knew it was final.

“The only catch is, they’re hunting us as well. We still have to keep the element of surprise. It would be stupid to just wait for them to show up, even if we were prepared. We always bring the fight to them.”

She nodded, and laid fully down onto the mattress. A wave of exhaustion overcame her, and she found it oddly easy to close her eyes around the Solider.

“We’re on the run Natalia, I hope you’re ready.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to write for these summaries anymore. Steve and Nat continue their search with the file, Nat's memories replay in her mind.

The file hadn’t cooperated like Natasha would’ve liked. The stupid AI kept on rewriting itself and she could barely keep up. With the narrowing time crunch and the threat of SHIELD over their heads, she decided on running a tracer to track where the file came from. 

“New Jersey,” Steve breathed, his eyes locked on the screen, like his mind was replaying a memory.

“You know the place?” she asked.

“I used to.”

She shrugged at the response and led him out of the Apple Store. The agents had to be close by now, she had already seen some sweeping through the building. It wouldn’t be long until they ran into at least one of them. She could feel Steve tense as well, his hand was held in hers.

“Standard tac-team. Two behind, two across, two coming straight at us. If they make us, I’ll engage, you hit the south escalator to the metro,” he relayed. Funny that he thought she hadn’t noticed this already.

“Shut up and put your arm around me, laugh at something I said,” she instructed. And he did just so as two agents walked past them.

Steve looked at her, somewhat surprised that her trick had worked. Sometimes, she had learned, that engaging wasn’t always the answer. 

o0o

“What can we do, they’re coming straight for us?” Natalia asked desperately under her breath. A set of the mob boss’ guards were heading towards them. Sure, they were prepared, Natalia had two knives in her boot and a pistol strapped onto her leg, but her right leg was still busted. The Solider had found a bone near her ankle to be broken after a few days of resting.

She stated that she could go on. The Solider wouldn’t have it.

“Push yourself too far, you break. We both know the Red Room hates broken things. They throw them out like trash. You’re not trash,” he said instead. She could only curse under her breath. She didn’t need to be babysat or treated like a fragile doll. So eventually, she had convinced her trainer to let them gather some supplies. After living off of stale crackers for a few days, and their water supply running low, he agreed. Little did both of them know that the mob boss’ henchmen were searching the same market that day.

“We can retreat into that pub,” he whispered, and pulled her closer to him. She fought to get out of his grasp, yet that only made him hold her tighter. But once again, this action wasn’t threatening, no it was protective, and that seemed to scare her more.

“We have to fight them. They’ll see us. We need to make the first move,” she argued.

“They won’t see us if we’re in a crowded setting and out of sight. Their descriptions for us don’t match the clothes we’re wearing. This pub was where they had dealt business not to long ago, until they got caught and almost arrested. These owners can remember a face, and identify his henchmen easily. They would be fools to come here. Now hurry,” he nearly dragged her inside.

The pub wasn’t crowded. If anything, practically empty, save six lone men. Emptiness left no place to hide, that made Natalia nervous. It was a Sunday morning, the Orthodox Church up the street was most likely in the middle of Mass. She wouldn’t be surprised if that was the reason.

“What can I get you, sir?” a bartender asked the Solider.

“A few shots of vodka, two for me, two for the lady,” he responded and flashed a friendly smile. Natalia could tell it was fake.

She sat down at a table in the desolate corner, but he shook his head at her and took a seat at the bar.

“What are you doing? The bartender can easily see our faces, commit it to memory, and use it against us for questioning,” she whispered into his ear.

“Yes, but I don’t want to create an event that will make us rememberable,” he whispered back.

“What?”

“That man is drunkly eying you. We don’t want to cause a fight. A fight brings the police. We can’t have them on our trail as well. Keep our distance, stay within view of the bartender, he most likely won’t try to make a move…”

Natalia nodded. She had began to notice that her trainer had incredible instincts. And he had almost, looked out for her in a way? No, they just had to keep each other alive for the mission. 

“…and if you’re sitting closer to me, he might stop looking at you like that.”

Right then, the bartender returned with their shots of vodka. She quickly took one and swallowed it down in one gulp. Why did he look out for her like that?

o0o

A kiss that left Steve red and a long car ride later, they had made their way to the coordinates, an abandoned U.S Army Training Camp. Natasha already had her doubts. This advanced file came from this old skeleton of a training ground? But she knew not to judge a book by its cover.

“This is it,” Steve walked to the gate with his shield on his wrist. 

“The file came from these coordinates,” she observed the sign, then began to work at the gate’s locks.

“So did I,” Steve sighed. This entire time he had seemed to be in a daze. Well, more in a daze than usual. It wasn’t to the point where it was concerning to Natasha, but she could help but sympathize with the solider.

“This is the camp where I was trained,” he added as they continued to walk through the ghostly empty area. She watched his eyes scan the buildings and the dirt paths. She didn’t know his memories from this place. If they were filled with joy, suffering, pain or just nostalgia, but she knew it had an effect on him. It would on her too, heck she didn’t want to go back to see where she was trained. Maybe it would’ve been filled with more painful memories compared to Steve’s but this wasn’t some stupid completion. Her pain could be different from his pain. But both were pain. Both hurt their hearts.

“Changed much?” she asked as she continued to scan the walls for any heat signatures.

“A little,” he sighed. She just kept on walking.

The little remote in her hand beeped and turned off. No sign of anything.

“This is a dead end. Zero heat signatures, zero waves, not even radio. Whoever wrote the file must have used a router to throw people off,” she started, but was cut off when Steve began to walk towards a bunker.

“What is it?” she asked catching up to him.

“Army regulations forbid storing ammunition within five hundred yards of the barracks. This building is in the wrong place,” he stated, then hit his shield against the lock. 

He slid the door open further, then closed it behind him. The room lights flickered on. Natasha observed their surroundings. Layers and layers of dust lined the floors, tables, chairs, desktops and book shelves. The walls were all white with just a painted stripe of blue near the bottom half. And at the front of the room, the emblem of SHIELD.

“This is SHIELD,” she stated.

“Maybe where it started,” Steve added.

They continued to walk through the abandoned bunker, entering a new room filled with multiple bookcases. Seemed like a combination of a library and an office.

“There’s Stark’s father,” Nat said, immediately recognizing the man.

“Howard,” Steve added, but then his gaze shifted to the picture of the woman to Starks’ right. A beautiful woman, dark short hair, a poised and kind expression overcame her features. And Steve looked at her like something he had loved. Something he had loved and lost and wants to regain again. Natasha knew the feeling. 

“Who’s the girl?” she asked.

He didn’t respond, just continued to look at the picture. Love. That was what love looked like. She questioned if she had ever felt that, but just thinking of James, the good times they shared in that hell, she knew she had. She loved him, and he had loved her. And it was all torn away from them, all too early.

Steve eventually moved away from the picture and continued to scout the room. He stopped at a bookshelf that was covered in spiderwebs.

“If you’re already working in a secret office,” he started and then pulled the bookshelf to the side, revealing a set of sliding doors, “why do you need to hide the elevator?”

They rode the shaky elevator down to the next level, which ever one that was, since there was only one button to press, and arrived in another empty room. This one though, seemed to be a sort of records room, holding rolls of paper and film into boxes. 

The lights automatically lit themselves up, revealing a computer station in the center. 

“This can’t be the data-point, this technology is ancient,” she scoffed, but then noticed a more “up-to-date” USB input station. She inserted the file into the station, and a whirling sound began to start. Only faintly was it heard at first, yet then grew some momentum, staying at a more steady pace.

INITIATE SYSTEM?

The computer screen asked. She bent down to touch the dusted keys.

“Y-E-S, spells yes,” the machines seemed to speed up their pace. “Shall we play a game?”

Nat turned to Steve, hoping to explain, “It’s from a movie that…”

“Yeah, I saw it,” he interrupted.

Their conversation was then again interrupted by a voice. A voice coming from a computer.

“Rogers, Steven. Born in 1914,” it said. The whirling from the machines in the background continued.

“Romanoff, Natalia Alianova. Born, 1984.”  
Steve looked at her with a questioning glance. Not many knew her real name. Steve hadn’t before now. How in the world did this voice know?

o0o

They had returned to their safe house with some better food, bottles of water and one bottle of vodka in tow. Relax, they weren’t planning on getting drunk, more so using the alcohol for injury disinfectant purposes.

Once again, the Solider had helped Natalia tend to her wounds. He dabbed the alcohol soaked wet cloth onto her cuts and still healing gashes, hoping it would kill any harmful bacteria. Then he tended to his own wounds, which she hadn’t really noticed until this moment.

They sat in silence for a full day after that. It was an eerie sort of quiet. The one that came before the storm. Both spies were ready for the henchmen to come breaking through their door. Natalia decided to speak first.

“Why did you do this?” she asked.

“You know my answer, we need to complete the mission.”

“No, why are you treating me like this. None of the other trainers do. None of the other girls do. What type of game are you trying to play? Because I’ll find a way to stop you. Don’t think you have earned my trust by stitching up a hole in my leg,” she stated.

He sighed and looked away, “I’m not playing any games, Natalia.”

“Then why?”

He didn’t respond. And she left the question loom in the silence. Then she took another breath and asked one more. 

“What’s your name?”

“What?” he asked, looking at her once again.

“You know mine. Not many do, usually I go by my code name, Widow 8, but you call me Natalia,” she sighed and closed her eyes for a split second before completing her statement. “What is your name, or do you not remember?”

She knew he could’ve lied. Could’ve said he didn’t remember. Could’ve left her question unanswered. Or he could’ve even punished her for asking such a question to a person of higher ranking than herself. But no, he answered her question.

“My name is James. James Buchanan Barnes,” he said calmly, like he had recited it in his head times prior, and only now was he actually speaking it. The words seemed almost foreign to him, and they were spoken with an American accent instead of his ingrained Russian.

“James,” she nodded, then offered him a soft gaze. He seemed to almost smile back, the kindness reached his eyes, just not his lips, before his features became serious again. 

“I need you to not tell anyone. Not a soul. If they know, they’ll…”

“I won’t. I’ll address you as Soldat. I won’t give a hint of anything else,” she affirmed. “I’ve kept worse secrets. And this one, if told, would only give us both suffering and misery.”

He nodded, and sighed as he sat down onto the floor. She could tell he was probably questioning his decision in telling her. She would too if she were him.

“I just wanted to know, for all its worth. You’re different. Different than anybody I have every met,” she added quietly. Her voice was quieter than a whisper, and she didn’t know if he could even hear her. Part of herself wanted him to, the other didn’t. “And I don’t know if I should be more welcome to it or afraid of it.”

The Solider, no James, looked at her. An understanding in his eyes. He knew that feeling. Not being able to trust anyone. That feeling that everybody had a knife and wanted to place it in your back. 

“I don’t want you to be afraid of it,” he responded, just as quietly. He wanted to prove that he didn’t have a knife. That he didn’t want to stab her in the back. He didn’t know if she believed him, trusted his words, but he would see to it to prove that to her. 

Because he noticed, that she too was different. And he had been drawn to it since they locked eyes from their first meeting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve checks in on Nat (he can tell her thoughts are distant). Nat and Steve fight over who sleeps on the couch at Sam's house (a pretty relaxed chapter).

“You okay?” Steve’s voice pulled her away from her thoughts.

“Yeah.” she replied, while still rubbing a few strands of hair between the hand towel.

He sat down in front of her, somehow knowing that her mind was swimming in too many thoughts to count. “What’s going on?”

Natasha sighed. It felt like her life was spiraling out of control all over again. She truthfully didn’t know if anything she had done in the past was good, any of it. Even the missions for SHIELD, was that always HYDRA? It scared her. 

“When I first joined SHIELD, I thought I was going straight. But I guess I just traded in the KGB for HYDRA. I thought I knew the lies I was telling, but…” she tried her best to give him a relaxed smile, yet she probably knew it seemed forced, “I guess I can’t tell the difference anymore.”

“There’s a chance you might be in the wrong business.”

She laughed at his remark, the same one she had given him in that truck ride, when he wanted her to be a friend. It somehow brought her thoughts back to James. That same thought when she muttered: You might be in the wrong business, Rogers.

She had lost James, lost Fury. Finding that sort of love and connection with someone in her line of work, it only proved to give her more pain.

“I owe you,” Natasha said while her thoughts dwelled on the topic of the missions. He had saved her.

“It’s okay,” he shrugged it off.

“If it was the other way around, and it was down to me to save your life and can you be honest with me, would you trust me to do it?”

Trust. Trust was everything. There were levels of trust. Only a few people who had gained the highest level of trust in which Natasha fully let herself depend on. The first was with James, the second with Clint, third with Nick and now Steve. She trusted her life on these people. But did they trust her? That was hard to tell.

“I would now,” he responded.

She gave him a surprised, yet relieved expression. He trusted her. Not many were known to do that. She was thankful for every person who did. 

“And I’m always honest,” Steve added.

“Well you seem pretty chipper for someone who just found out they died for nothing,” she smiled at him.

“Well, I guess I just like to know who I’m fighting.”

***

They stayed the night. Steve and Nat both felt that they had no time to spare, yet Sam convinced them to at least get on their feet before continuing. That included getting a good nights rest.

“I can imagine it’s been days since you’ve both slept at least more than an hour. So maybe just consider that before diving into your plans,” he had explained.

So eventually, they both gave in. Natasha was getting dressed into anything cleaner that the clothes she had been wearing for two days straight, which now was an oversized sweatshirt that Sam had lying around. Afterwards, she had headed into the living room to claim her spot on the couch, yet Steve was already there.

“I’m not going to let you break Sam’s couch with all your tossing and turning, captain, so get up and go to the guest bedroom,” she joked.

“No, Nat. You can…”

“Seriously, Rogers. You barely even fit on this couch. I’m fine, you take the bed,” she sighed, exasperated. He could be so stubborn on the littlest things.

“No, I…”

“Get up, or I’ll force you to,” she stated with no room left to argue.

He groaned and rolled his eyes before getting up and padding to the guest room. Natasha set down a blanket and pillow, then turned off the light in the kitchen before flopping onto the couch. Her exhaustion overcame her and she dozed off to sleep, only to be met by a nightmare. A nightmare she hadn’t had in years.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll just sum it up in three words: Nightmares, Comforting Attempts and Familiar Words  
> (Actually that was five words and ethically three sets of them, but whatever)

(One year two months since the graduation ceremony)

“I love you, Natalia,” he whispered into her ear. It was the first time he had said it. The first time anyone had said it. It made her heart stop, her lungs tighten, and her breath catch, yet all in a good way. 

As a child, she was taught she wasn’t lovable. She was taught love was weakness. She was taught that love was for children. 

But here she was, lying in James’ bed, curled into his side and basking in the warmth of his words. Unlike they had told her, his love gave her strength.

He had been wiped multiple times before this moment, yet he always remembered her. We will always find our way back to each other, James had said one night during a mission. 

And she believed it.

“I love you, my Yasha,” she whispered back. 

His hand caressed her cheek, before he leaned in and kissed her. It started out as a gentle kiss. A soft peck that still left her feeling breathless. He had that sort of effect on her. But then, it grew into something deeper, stronger, needier. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated over and over again, once after every kiss which he purposefully peppered onto her skin. One to her forehead, one to her nose, one to her lips, one to her neck, one to her ear, and one to her chest, right above her beating heart.

He pulled her closer, until their bodies were flush to each other, and her skin tingled to the sensation. Never in her life had she felt more safe, happy or loved.

His strong arms wrapped that around her gave her security, his soft lips on hers gave her promise, his eyes that looked at her with wonder gave her hope, and his heart’s intentions gave her all the love she could ever need. He was her home.

They kissed once more, filled with that same passion, desire, and pleasure yet they did this so slowly, almost as if they were savoring it. Like both of them wanted this moment to be ingrained into their memory.

A loud bang came from the side of the bedroom. The door was blasted out and a swarm of guards entered the room.

Natalia looked at James in horror. His reaction was much them same, yet he didn’t stay stunned like she did. He reached for his gun, yet was already tackled to the ground before his finger could touch the weapon. Six men held the solider down as James struggled to get out of their grasp.

“Natalia!” he called. He heard her grunts as she tried to fight them off.

“James!” she called back. Hoping he could hear her. Hoping he was alright. She couldn’t see him. “James!”  
Even though both Natalia and James were stronger than the guards, there were too many, especially when each were armed with an electric tranquilizer.

“Ja-” Natalia started as she almost pulled herself free, yet one of the electric batons hit her collarbone before she could get far.

“No! Natalia! NO!” James screamed. He watched her fall unconscious and limp as they bound her arms and legs together. “No, no, no.”

He nearly sobbed. She was… she… what would they do to her? What were they going to do to them? Kill them? Kill her? Have him kill her? He knew they would think he’s too valuable to kill off, but they would see to it to make his life hell.

It would be hell anyways, without her.

“Well, I’m glad my informants were correct. The Black Widow sneaking out on multiple occasions is definitely something to look into,” Madame B kneeled down onto the floor and stroked Natalia’s hair out of her face. It would’ve looked kind, almost motherly, if you hadn’t known her intentions.

“Don’t touch her,” James said through gritted teeth. With Natalia unconscious on the ground, all 10 guards were holding James back as he continued to try to get loose.

“Oh, Solider? So protective over your little widow,” Madame B waltzed over to where James was restricted. The guards had forced his hands into vibranium cuffs that even he couldn’t break out of. She slapped him once but he didn’t even flinch. James only felt numbness. Nothing could hurt more than his heart at that moment. 

“What are you going to do to us? To her?” he asked.

“Both of you are too valuable to kill,” the woman began. This should’ve given him a sense of relief, yet he knew that the alternative would be just as bad. “You will be wiped. Permanently. With newer technology that will actually get the job done. She’ll be gone forever in your eyes. She’ll mean nothing to you.”

“And her?” James asked quietly, he was almost afraid to.

“And she will watch. Not to mention the punishment both of you must go through after that point.”

James’ heart broke and he looked down at the ground in defeat. They were going to take his Natalia away.

***

Natalia awoke. Her whole body was sore, and she found binding marks on her wrists, and ankles, though there were no more cuffs. Instead she was alone, in a room that had a glass wall. On the other side of the wall was a chair with all sorts of contraptions connected to it. Where was she?  
Just then, a man was brought in with guards holding his arms in place, as if the thick handcuffs weren’t enough.

It was James. He looked at her with sad and heartbroken eyes. And she could read his message. I love you. Stay strong, my love.

She tried her best to relay it back. 

Madame B entered the room on James’ side of the glass. But Natalia could hear her clearly.

“You have disobeyed us in more ways than one. You have made each other weak. And you have both failed. For that, you must be broken in again. Remade to follow our orders. Know that you belong to us, you work for us, and you will be nothing more than that,” she stated, then under her breath spoke. “Put him in the chair. Full wipe.”  
Natalia’s eyes already became glossy. Wipe. Full wipe. He was going to forget her.

“No! No! Please!” she shrieked, doing anything to stop it, but it did nothing. She banged on the glass, trying to break it, trying to break through as James was strapped into the chair. “I’ll do anything! Don’t do this to him!”

Madame B ignored Natalia’s words and told the doctors and scientists to continue the operation. The chair began to light up, a buzzing noise sounded, and James screamed out in pain.

“No! NO! Please, no!” Natalia sobbed. She was ashamed of herself. Ashamed over the fact that she was showing all these emotions in front of Madame B. The same woman who had beaten her after crying when she twisted her ankle in her first ballet lesson at age seven. 

The noise stopped and the restraints on the chair opened. James stepped out. He looked at her. No through her. Like she was nothing more that a stranger.

“No…please…James…” she cried quiet and helplessly.

o0o

(from Steve’s POV)

Steve was feeling restless. Too much was on his mind. How had he not noticed HYDRA rising? How in the world was he going to take down HYDRA with just him, Natasha and maybe Same? He knew Natasha had done large take-downs (she had said before that she’s watched regimes fall) but nothing like this. 

When sleep didn’t evade him, he decided to get up to get a drink of water. In the kitchen, while sipping on the cool glass, he heard a noise. A sort of shifting coming from the living room.

Maybe he had woken her up? He hoped not. She seemed to be in a deep sleep, just due to her breaths, when he had entered the room. He knew she didn’t fall asleep easily, so any deep sleep she got he wanted her to have. 

Then there was a whimper followed by a muffled shriek. Steve ran into the living room. What if somebody had found their location? Natasha rarely screamed.

But there was nobody there, and Natasha was still asleep. Her red hair splayed across the pillow. But her body was restless as she continued to whimper and cry out.

“Net! Net! Pozhaluysta!” she cried. Her brows were furrowed and her face seemed to be in distress. Steve didn’t know what to do. Shake her awake? Let the nightmare pass? What if she thought he was trying to hurt her? What if she fought him in her sleep?

“Natasha,” he whispered. It did nothing. 

“Ya vse sdelayu!” she cried louder this time. “Ne delay etogo!”

Then Sam appeared in the doorway, as Natasha continued to speak. Once again she whimpered and a sob shook her body.

“Is she alright? What’s happening?” he asked.

“I don’t know. She’s never done this before, that I know of. Nightmare maybe?” Steve responded. 

“Net! NET! Pozhaluysta, ne nado!”

“Should we wake her up?”

“I don’t know.”

“Net, pozhaluysta… Yasha…”

This time her voice was quieter. A combination of a plea, a whisper and a sob. Her cries died down, and she was left shaking. Steve decided that it was better to waker her up now, while she was still calm.

“Natasha?” he asked and gently shook her awake. He made sure his movements were slow and not alarming.

Her eyes fluttered open. They were glossy and she blinked away the wetness.

“Steve,” she sighed.

“You were…”

“I’m fine,” she stated before he could finish. 

“Nat, it’s okay. If you want…”

“No, Rogers. I don’t need to talk about it,” only then did she see Sam in the doorway. Her eyes shifted from Steve to Sam and then back again to Steve. “You didn’t have to call Sam in too.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I get it. We all get nightmares,” Sam assured her.

Steve noticed how she looked away, almost embarrassed. He reached out to stroke her arm, but she pulled away.

“I told you, I’m fine,” her voice sounded tired. “You can go to bed. I can handle myself.”

“But the thing is, you don’t have to,” Steve sighed. “We’re here for you.” Then he got up from his seated position on the couch and left the room. Sam followed in tow.

o0o

(Back to Nat’s POV)

Nat swore she had heard those words before. James had said those words. When they had to split up for a mission in Eastern Germany.

She had to stay in Berlin to intercept an important file trade off. He had to travel to Munich to track a military leader that threatened the security of the Red Room and its operations with the KGB. They were taking inventory in a safe-house off in the countryside. It would take Natalia a few hours to return to the city, and James a few more to travel to the Western side of Germany.

(Six months after graduation ceremony)

“You have everything, enough ammunition? Your guns are cleaned? No possible jamming?” he asked while lacing his boots.

“You worry too much,” she smiled at him. “Yes, I have everything.”

He got up from his kneeling position and stood next to the door. Natalia walked towards the door until she was in front of him. Their height different wasn’t that drastic. All he had to do was bend down just a bit to reach her lips.

She brought her hands to his face. The small hint of stubble pricked her fingers slightly. She loved it. His hands fell to her hips, where he pulled her in closer. Warmth already radiated off of his touch, even from his metallic hand.

“I just wanted to make sure. It’s your first mission alone,” he whispered.

“Not exactly, there was…”

“First real mission,” he stated, then silenced any arguments with a kiss.

“James, I’ll be fine. I’m used to working alone,” she sighed and took him into a hug. He wrapped his arms further around her waist while she wrapped her own around his back over his neck. 

“The thing is, you don’t have to. You don’t ever have to feel alone. I’ll always be here,” he assured her, kissed her neck and then broke the hug.

“My train leaves in half an hour, and I have to make it to the station,” he sighed.

“So it's goodbye,” she nodded.

“Only for now, moy malen’kiy pauk.” My little spider.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper Natasha and Part 1 of kidnapping Sitwell.

“You sure you’ll be able to project the laser from all the way over here?” Steve asked.

“You’d be surprised, this scope is better than most. Should be easy,” Nat responded and she positioned the rifle against her arm. They were hiding in an abandoned car garage hundreds of feet away from the restaurant where Sitwell was dinning.

The plan was for Natasha to use the gun as a threat, Steve would be waiting in a silver car that they hot wired to pick up the agent after Sam has relayed the threat. Nat had already cloaked Sam’s number and made the call seem like it was from Alexander Pierce.

“I’m scared that you know how to do all this stuff like it’s a normal task you do everyday,” Sam sighed when Natasha had finished programing his phone for the call.

“You learned your math facts in school, I learned this,” she shrugged.

Sam gave Steve and look and he just shook his head. Nat ignored both.

“Relax, I know my math facts. Was best in class,” she added with a smirk, then walked out of the room.

Now, on the fourth level of the garage, Steve watched as she prepared the military rifle for their plan.

“No, I mean, are you sure it’ll reach him? It seems like an impossible angle,” Steve clarified.

“Are you questioning my capability, Rogers?” she asked back.

“No, no, no,” he said flustered. Natasha laughed. He always got so red in the face when he was embarrassed. 

“I just, it…”

“It’s not impossible.”

“And we’re not that far away from the restaurant, only across the street. Are you sure he won’t see you?”

She shook her head.

“I’ve got this, Steve. Trained by the best in Russia. I will inform you that I’ve done snipper missions before,” she sighed.

Steve just shook his head, then walked off. “I’ll get going.”  
And Natasha was alone again. Usually how she preferred it. Just her and her gun. 

o0o

(Three months after the graduation ceremony)

“Sniper shooting? I thought that was your forte, James,” she joked when he introduced the topic to her on a simple mission in Slovakia. They weren’t alone, far from it. Two other agents, men, accompanied them, leaving James in his handler persona for the majority of its duration. Though, now, overlooking a fancy gala from a nearby balcony, they had a moment alone. 

“Madame B wants you to learn the skill, says that it’ll be useful for future missions,” he stated, handing her a heavy assault rifle.

“And she always gets what she wants, doesn’t she?” 

“Hm,” he agreed. Though even after they had both found a hatred against Madame B, it was harder for him to talk about his boss in that sort of way. Something most likely ingrained in the brainwashing and memory wipes, the lack of opinions.

“Well, I’m glad you’re training me, not Dimitri. He was always more…”  
“Rough,” James finished. And that was putting it lightly. Discipline and punishment was Dimitri Lebedev’s middle name. They looked down at the man who was disguised as one of the guests and getting an angle on everything. He looked almost domestic with his black suit and forced smile that would make some women swoon. Little did they all know.

James positioned Natalia’s arms around the weapon and demonstrated how to look through the scope for aim. It was the same principal as hunting, though with this you had to be extremely on target, sure of yourself that the shot would hit perfectly.

“Make sure you’re not seen. Blend with the surroundings,” he added and Natalia ducked down a bit more.

“Still keep your eyes looking through the scope, even if you prefer the alternative. Your most accurate shots should be credited to the help of the scope.”

With that, he tilted Natalia’s chin to face forward, but even she could feel his fingers linger. 

“Not here,” she whispered. She didn’t know what this was at the time. A combination of meaningful glances, sacred touches and comforting words that were exchanged over the course of missions and training. She had grown to crave it. That was dangerous.

“Not here,” he repeated, nodding his head, and removed his hand from her face.

The touch still left a warm feeling on her cheek. The skin, almost, burned to it.

o0o

“Tell me about Zola’s algorithm,” Steve kicked opened the door and threw Sitwell onto the ground.

Their kidnapping plan went extremely well and nobody, so far, had suspected a thing. The agent quickly regained his balanced and stood up, backing away from Steve and Natasha who were walking intimidatingly towards him. 

“Never heard of it,” he lied. This man was even worse than Steve at lying. Natasha scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“What were you doing on the Lemurian Star?”

“I was throwing up, I get seasick.”  
Now he was avoiding the obvious question asked. He definitely knew something. Maybe everything.

Steve pressed forward with Natasha following shortly behind, until Sitwell was standing on the edge of the ten or so story building. Quickly, Steve grabbed onto the agent’s shoulders, practically holding him over the drops below.

“Is this little display meant to insinuated that you’re gonna throw me off the roof? Because it’s really not your style, Rogers,” he joked. Though Natasha knew he was scared.

“You’re right, it’s not,” he let him regain his balanced and smoothed out the man’s suit, then backed away. She saw him take a breath, seeming relieved.

“It’s hers,” he finished.

And before the agent could even react, Nat kicked him off the side of the building. His scream echoed on the way down.

“Oh, wait. What about that girl from accounting, Laura…?

Natasha had been trying to set up Steve on a date since forever. It started out as a joke, but had evolved since then. He still wouldn’t agree to see anyone, yet Natasha being Natasha was a persistent person. He sometimes would turn the tables. Joking how a girl like her wouldn’t have a problem catching a man’s eye. She nodded at the statement but never really responded to it much.

Even if she had found somebody else, nobody would be like James. Nobody would ever understand her like he had. Sure she was pretty, gorgeous actually, but her attitude and even the clean version of her origin story would send men running. 

Her and James were just so similar, that she couldn’t envision anybody else in his place. Whatever his heart was made of, her’s was the same.

“Lillian. Lip piercing, right?” Steve clarified, thinking it over.

“Yeah, she’s cute,” Nat agreed.

“Yeah, I’m not ready for that,” he sighed.

She rolled her eyes. Excuses, excuses.

Sam flew back up to the top of the building with Jasper Sitwell in a panic. He dropped him onto the roof, and the agent already felt defeat. Natasha and Steve walked up to him and he immediately started talking.

“Zola’s algorithm is a program… for choosing insights targets!” he said quickly.

“What targets?” Steve asked.

“You, a TV anchor in Cairo, the Secretary of Defense, a high school Valedictorian in Iowa City, Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone’s who’s a threat to HYDRA,” he rambled.

So many people. Innocent people. Good, kind, caring people. They would be dead if her, Steve and Sam couldn’t accomplish this feat of a task. 

“Now, or in the future,” Sitwell panted.

“In the future how could it know?” Steve questioned.

With this Sitwell almost became annoyed. He chuckled to himself, looking down at the ground before regaining eye contact.

“How could it not?” he spat. “The 21st century is a digital book. Zola taught HYDRA how to read it.”

This much power. This much tell. How could it be possible? Knowing their quote on quote “threats” before they even arise? It genuinely scared Natasha, and not much did.

“Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, emails, phone calls, your damn SAT scores!” his voice began to rise with a sort of impatience. “Zola’s algorithm evaluates people’s past to predict their future.”

That made Natasha’s breath catch in her throat. If were targeting innocent people off of these meaningless little things, predicting that they would become that “threat”, what did her past predict? Her undoing? Undoing of the world? She thought she could move on from it, but that little voice in her head always taunted her, questioned her. Are you actually good? It would ask. Or are you just a ticking bomb to destruction, to destroy everything you’ve tried to make for yourself? Because nothing ever lasts forever.

“And what then?” Steve continued with the questions. Though Natasha knew the answer was blatantly obvious.

Guilt clouded Sitwell’s face and the multitude of what he had just told the strongest solider, most masterful spy in the world (and Sam) sunk in. 

“Oh my God. Pierce is gonna kill me,” he breathed. 

“What then?!” Steve asked, his voice raising.

Sam grabbed the agent by his collar, ready to lift off into the air again.

“Then the Insight helicarriers scratch people off the list. A few million at a time.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of kidnapping Sitwell and another memory, sparked by James' hair.

“HYDRA doesn’t like leaks.”

“Then why don’t you put a cork in it?”

They were driving on the freeway, Jasper Sitwell in tow. The plan was to use Sitwell for DNA scans to gain access to the helicarriers, thus not allowing them to take off. Yet that all changed when something grabbed the agent, pulled him through the window and threw him into oncoming traffic. No, someone.

Natasha heard the thud from the car roof. Somebody was on the roof right above her head, probably with a weapon in hand. Without a split second to loose, she jumped into the passenger seat, landing in Steve’s lap. She grabbed his head, pulling it towards her chest so no stray bullets would hit him, and hoped Sam would find a way to stay clear of the metallic rainfall.

Steve put the car in park, stopping it abruptly, and throwing off the person who was on the roof. 

There he was, suited up in dark leather clothes, a pair of dark, dark red goggles on along with a black mask covering his mouth. But she would never forget his scuffed up hair, soft as can be, she remember, and of course, that metal arm.

o0o

(Eight months after the graduation ceremony)

She ran her hand through his hair. It had grown longer over the past few months, and she insisted that, if he wanted, she would cut it.

“They would notice,” he dismissed the idea.

“They would think you did it,” she sighed. His hair was probably softer than her own. She knew he would debate on that, but it was the truth. “You said it was getting in your eyes.”

“Yes, but I don’t know if I want it cut,” he mumbled, and turned his head to look up at her. He was seated on the ground, with his back between her legs. Natalia, was on sitting on the edge of his bed. A pair of scissors and a comb near her right leg.

“I don’t know if I want it cut either,” she smiled, and stroked her hand through the strands. She felt him relax to the feeling. “But it is a bit too long. Making you look like a homeless man.”

“You didn’t mean that,” he scoffed.

“I didn’t,” she agreed simply. He was far too handsome to be a homeless man.

“It does need to be cut though,” he sighed after sitting in a moments of silence. “But I… don’t… not too…”  
“I’ll only trim it, how does that sound?”

He only nodded in response.

She took the comb and carefully brushed it along his scalp, extremely gently. She had learned he hated rough movements and harsh combing, even if it was from her. Said it sparked bad memories, she could relate.

After his hair was smooth, not a tangle in sight, did she take the scissors and carefully trim around the edges. The hair fell in small clumps, tickling her legs and toes. Eventually, after a few minutes of scissor work, his out-of-control hair looked much neater and put together. She was proud of her work, as she turned his face towards her, brushing a few cut wisps of hair off his face.

“There,” Natalia smiled at him, and gave him a peck on his nose, which he promptly scrunched up.

James stood and walked to the bathroom where he looked into the small mirror. A gasp escaped him and he began to tremble.

“James?” she asked. Her voice concerned as she watched him crumple into a ball on the bathroom floor. He didn’t cry out or sob, but silent tears fell down his face and his whole frame shivered and shook.

She quickly wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, as he tried to recover from whatever this was. Natalia didn’t ask, just let him overcome it. She never pushed, only listened when he talked.

This was the closest she’s ever been to him. There were small pecks in secret spaces and occasionally a lingering touch, but never an embrace like this.

“I looked like him,” James spoke quietly. His breath caught in his throat and his voice was breathy and shaken. His eyes looked at nothing, they were dozed off, like he had just seen a ghost. And he had, seen a ghost of his past. “I looked like…”

“Like the person from before,” she finished.

She didn’t know much about who James was before he became a trainer in the Red Room, before he became Soldat. She knew he wasn’t Russia, and spoke english naturally. Perhaps American? But other than those clues, she knew nothing. And again, she never pushed.

His body continued to tremble in shivers that even shook Natalia. She kissed his temple, rested her chin against the top of his head, and breathed in. His scent had always been the same. A mix of a rather familiar cologne, spiced soap and a hint of gunpowder and the smell of rifle magazines. His hair touched her face and she loved its softness, even though it was now shorter.

“I’m sorry I cut it too short,” she sighed after a moment.

“No,” he shook his head. And she was grateful that that was the only thing shaking. His body had eventually relaxed. “I needed this. You.”

He finished the statement looking into her eyes. His frosty blue one’s piercing her emerald green. And then he leaned up to kiss her. Really kiss her. Not a fast peck or a rushed touch of lips. No, slow, savoring but gentle.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat has to fight the Winter Solider, yet once he comes close enough, she stops and tries a different tactic instead. She talks. And to her surprise, so does he.

They had long ditched the car. It was nothing but a death trap, crushed on all sides, it’s steering wheel ripped out and practically overthrown in the middle of the freeway.

Same had taken cover behind some other stopped cars, and Nasty was running with Steve, trying to find a way out.

“Go,” he pushed her out from behind his shield towards another car she could use for cover. A grey sedan. Just afterwards, the Winter Solider fired a grenade towards Steve, which he blocked with his shield, yet the blow threw him off of the bridge and into a bus down below. 

The Solider’s focus shifted from Steve to Nat, as he fired another grenade towards the car she had been taking cover behind. As the blast hit the vehicle, Natasha jumped over the side of the bridge and used her grappling hook to run onto the ground safely.

She saw his shadow from above the bridge as he waited for her to run out the other side. His gun was poised, its safety no doubt clicked off. She didn’t want to fight him, but really did she have a choice?

She fired a few shots towards his face before he could shoot her. The bullets ricocheted off of his goggles, and he retreated, leaving a perfect opportunity for her to run out from underneath the bridge and take cover behind a stopped truck. 

To her left, Steve was still inside that bus, rounds after rounds of shots going towards him. The Solider would no doubt be one of them. Plus, there were civilians in that bus and around the surrounding area. She had to draw their fire away from him, or at least draw the Solider away from him.

When he had reappeared from his retreat, the assassin fired rapid shots to the area underneath the bridge below. If she was still there, she knew she would’ve been dead, or at least severely injured.

Before his attention could refocus on Steve, she fired a few quick rounds towards him. Each missed, though she wasn’t aiming for a hit. She watched him mutter something to the guards nearby then jumped down from the overpass and onto a car. His eyes found hers, yet they stared through her. Stared through her like all those times before.

o0o

(One year, three months since the graduation ceremony)

It had been a month since she had seen him. The last time she had, he was sitting in that chair, being wiped fully, while she cried. She shouldn’t have cried. Madame B made sure to make her regret it.

Her training became more intense. Much more intense. She didn’t know whether it was normal or part of her punishment (like the beatings and strict discipline weren’t enough). The amount of girls left, from the 28 dwindled down to one. Her. She had no where to hide, all eyes were on her. The Black Widow, the remaining widow.

The trainers, new trainers (not James), would push her to her breaking point. Nearly every conditioning exercise ended with her either injured or passed out and unconscious. And if she didn’t preform up to par until that point? The conditioning would only become more intense and last longer. 

Sparring was just as painful. She found herself with much more bruises, gashes (from training with knives) as well as sprains after her sparring sessions. Madame B would take one look at her and her answer would always be the same, “Look, you’re weak and unfocused. If you were strong, they wouldn’t have put a mark on you. You must become better Natalia.”  
One night, she went to the training room and James was there. Nobody else, just James. He was throwing punches at a punching bag in the dimly lit corner. The rhythmic sound of his flesh and metal fists pouring against the heavy bag nearly matched the pace of her heartbeat.

When she had fully entered the room he stopped. His eyes lifted to hers yet there was no recognition in the gaze. No passion. No heart. No life. They were blank. He didn’t know her.

“You’re not supposed to be here, get out,” he said. No sort of emotion was wrapped into the words. Not even anger. He sounded programed.

Natalia left the training room. And her heart was nearly drained of all hope. Yet still there was some left. She wouldn’t give up on him, not until she knew for certain he wouldn’t return.  
***  
A few days later a report came in. The Solider had died on a mission in Italy. He was said to be shot dead. Natalia knew she couldn’t stay. There wasn’t anything left for her in the Red Room. Nothing but misery.

o0o

He trailed after her. Only a grenade gun was in his hands, yet she knew he was heavily armed. She had assessed him, just like he had taught her. There was a smaller rifle was strapped to his back, a pistol in a holster by his side, multiple knives in his pockets and up his sleeves, as well as a set of small compact bombs that could fit in his pocket and were activated through complex codes. 

As she ran by, she pushed civilians to the side, yelling at them to take cover and run. The last thing she wanted was an innocent person becoming wrapped up in this mess. Through her dodging and quick movements, she had seemed to loose him. He was still blocks over, walking slowly, like not one bit of this chaos phased him. 

She planted her cell phone next to a car tire, where she had recorded her own voice relaying an SOS sort of message, instructing authorities what and where this event was taken place. If Natasha had to outsmart him, so be it.

He followed the voice, looking around before rolling one of those compact bombs towards the car. It stopped at the curb and the entire vehicle went up in flames. 

Before the Solider could realize she wasn’t there, Natasha jumped onto his shoulders, squeezing her thighs around his neck and wrapping a wire around his neck. It was her signature move, and somehow he knew it.

He flung her off of him easily, sending her crashing into a car and then slumping onto the ground. Quickly, Natasha threw one of her widow bites at his arm, but he knocked it away with the butt of his gun before it could latch onto him. 

She got up urgently, trying to run away, bet suddenly felt a strong grip on her bicep. A metal grip. His grip. He brought her to the ground, then tossed her onto a ground of parked cars along the sidewalk. 

The impact knocked out her breath, and mostly likely broke a few bones. She struggled to get up, but the Solider was already before her, aiming his small rifle at her head.

“Please, James,” she spoke in Russian. Her voice was a plead, a last resort. She was unarmed, and vulnerable in front of him. She couldn’t fight him, not like this, not to the death situation. Natasha knew she would never forgive herself if she killed him. It would plague her heart, only prove to her that she was that heartless killer Madame B had trained and raised. “You know me. You know me, James.”

“No I don’t,” he stated. That empty look. That empty voice. Just like in the training room.

“Yes, you do. You know me. You won’t kill me, you won’t,” she continued, still in Russian.

“They told me…”

She watched his face break for half a second. He was trying, trying to break through the programing. But he didn’t.

“You’re my target. I don’t know you!” he yelled again, back to his emotionless speech.

“We will always find our way back to each other, right? You said that, Yasha. You told me we would always find our way back,” Natasha stated, and a tear streaked down her face while a small but sad smile formed on her lips. Slowly, she raised her hands, showing she meant no threat. “You can kill me, Yasha, but…”

Before she could finish, the Solider hit Natasha in the side of the head with the butt of his gun, knocking her unconscious. She fell limp against the side of a car, with a trickle of blood flowing down the side of her forehead.

And then, the Solider retreated.

o0o

(Jame’s POV)

Something was familiar. In her voice. In her hair. And in that sad smile she gave him when she raised her hands and said those words.

“My vsegda naydem dorogu drug k drugu, verno?” she had spoken. She had said that he had said that with his own words, and it seemed… it seemed familiar.

And he almost broke, almost asked… 

“Oni skazali mne…” he began before he lost control all over again. But they came back. And he lost his control. His thoughts were no longer his own and his actions weren’t either.

He closed the gap between them, ignoring every word that came out of those lips. Wait, he recognized those lips, right? No he didn’t!

The two sides in him struggled for control. And in the end the brainwashed version won out. He aimed the gun towards her head. More than ready to take out his target.

Yet there was this meek voice in his head, like a whisper in his ear.

Don’t shoot.

It said. He didn’t. Quicker than he could even process, he knocked her out with the butt of his gun. Leaving her unconscious on top of a car. 

And while walking away, he felt something. Something. A pang of sadness and heartbreak. What was this? He hadn’t felt anything in years.

Out of nowhere, a round metal object was whirled at his head. His metallic arm grabbed it and he began his pursuit on his second target. Captain America.

o0o

(Steve’s POV) 

After Sam had dealt with the Winter Solider’s henchmen near the bus, Steve ran full force down the street where he had seen Natasha being chased by the Solider. He knew she could handle herself, probably better than he could in this situation, but she was his partner, they had to have each other’s back. And battling against the Winter Solider wouldn’t be an easy feat. This assign was nothing but experienced.

The whole street had an eerie silence, not a soul in sight. Until he head an explosion, a grunt and then… a conversation?

The Captain ducked behind cars making his way towards the noise, not wanting to be the victim of a stray bullet. Eventually he was close enough to make out the voices, well, really only one voice that was doing all the talking: Natasha’s.

“Pozhaluysta, Yasha,” he heard her start. It sounded familiar, like the words she had spoken in her sleep, in that nightmare. Russian? The pronunciation and accent was perfect. Yet that wasn’t what Steve had noticed the most. “Ty menya znayesh'. Ty menya znayesh’, Yasha.”

It was her tone. She talked to him like… like she knew him. He watched from behind the car, ready to help her if she needed. Though at the moment, he had shot her so that seemed to be a good sign.

“Net ya ne,” the Solider replied. His voice rose and anger seemed to line the syllables. 

“Da, konechno. Ty menya znayesh'. Ty menya ne ub'yesh', ne ub’yesh’," he listened to Nat’s response. It sounded like pleading and begging. One thing Steve knew about the Black Widow was that she NEVER begged, or even showed an ounce of weakness. 

It annoyed him some times, yet he had respect for her. But here, at this moment, her mask seemed to break in front of an assassin who was trying to kill her. Maybe it was a mercy technique? Steve was utterly confused.

“Oni skazali mne…” the man replied. His voice was more faint and it took more effort for Steve to hear, not like he could understand them anyways.

There was a pause for a moment and, for Steve, it felt too quiet. Yet then the Winter Solider spoke again. His voice back to that angry tone.

“Ty moya tsel'. YA tebya ne znayu!” 

Steve closed his eyes, waiting for the sound of fighting. Grunts, guns blasting, sounds of combat. But what he got was a sob from Natasha.

It was quiet yes, only just a tremble in her voice, yet he caught it. And when he looked through the car window towards where they were positioned, he caught a glance at her face.

She looked so… she looked like a girl. A… just a lonely and heartbroken girl. And Steve would’ve given so much to walk up to her and just give her a hug. Reassure her. Do something.

But guilt quickly coursed through him. She hadn’t shown him a side like this. She hadn’t given him permission to watch her in this state of vulnerability. Whoever this person was, this assassin that had shot her, this moment was for him. And he felt like he was invading something he shouldn’t have been a part of.

“My vsegda naydem dorogu drug k drugu, verno? Ty skazal eto, Yasha. Ty skazal mne, chto my vsegda naydem dorogu nazad,” she continued, a tear escaping her eyelids. “Ty mozhesh' ubit' menya, Yasha, no …”

And then there was silence. Like she had been shut up by some force. Steve looked back through the window to find her laying unconscious on the ground. Some blood fell onto her face from her forehead.

He was getting away. Steve threw the shield at the Solider, and, surprisingly, he had caught it, causing him to tumble backwards. The mask that was on his face flung off and revealed the man’s identity.

No. No it wasn’t… It could…

“Bucky?” Steve asked at a loss for words.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” he responded. His voice now a perfect english, almost like how Steve remembered but… different. 

Sam swooped it, knocking Bucky off his feet, only to be surround by armed agents all holding military grade rifles. There were too many to take down, and Steve just accepted his fate.

But Bucky…. he couldn’t get Bucky out of his head. How? He swore he had died, he watched him fall? How?

And then Natasha? What was she saying? How did it seem… like… like she knew him? Why did he talk back? Like he knew her. 

“Where’s the widow?” Rumlow spat once he had Steve on his knees, breaking him out of his train of thought.

Sam glanced at Steve, questioningly, only to be forced into the back of a military van.

“Where is she?!” Rumlow repeated, his voice louder.

“Here boss,” an agent responded, carrying an unconscious Natasha over his back like a sack of potatoes. It made him mad to watch them treat her like that, even as she was nocked out. And to think he had considered these men comrades.

They shoved them all into the back of the van, hands cuffed, even Natasha’s, and they drove off.

***

They sat in silence for a few moments before Sam spoke.

“What happened to her, Steve?” he asked while eyeing the blood continuing to drip onto her face.

“She talked to him,” Steve muttered quietly. He hated the fact that the guards were still present with them in the back.

“In Russian, I think, she talked to him. And… and he talked back,” he added.

“Well it’s not like Natasha isn’t talkative. Taunting her enemies is like her ‘thing’,” Sam pointed out. Steve shook his head.

“No. She actually talked. Genuinely. Her stance was vulnerable and…” Steve didn’t know if he should share this. He shouldn’t have been watching them.

“What Steve?”

Steve eyed the guards and shook his head.

“But the thing is, I knew the Winter Solider too.”  
Sam’s head snapped straight up while Steve’s let his hang low.

“It was Bucky, my best friend, my brother. I thought I lost him during the war but…” he paused. “I just don’t know how. And then with Natasha… she said she knew who he was but not… not like this… I’m just confused.”  
A bump in the road made their bodies shake and Natasha’s head flopped onto Sam’s shoulder. He looked down at the cut on her forehead. It hadn’t stopped bleeding.

“We need to get her medical attention. This amount of blood loss from the head? It could turn fatal,” he argued.

A guard lit up their electric baton, and Sam tried his best to back up, only for the electric current to be stabbed into the other guard sitting right by.

Slowly, Maria revealed herself, taking off the helmet.

“That thing was squeezing my brain, who’s this guy?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat discovers Nick is alive, and Steve confronts her about Bucky.

Natasha awoke in a makeshift cot. Her head hurt like hell and she struggled to remember what had happened in the last 24 hours. Oh yeah, James had happened.

She had expected him to kill her, especially after his eyes lost that hint of recognition, yet no, he had spared her. 

She turned her head and found Steve sitting next to her. His hands fiddling nervously, like he was trying to build up some courage for something. Perhaps he was.

“Where are we Rogers? I’m hoping not in a HYDRA prison,” she mumbled.

Steve looked up, not realizing before that she was awake.

“No, where near some… honestly I don’t know, but we’re still in DC,” he explained.

“Good, let’s…” she began to sit up when she looked past Steve and saw Nick. Nick alive and well. Nick who was talking to Maria and some other doctor.

“Look who woke up,” he said from across the room, catching her gaze.

“How in the world are you alive, Fury? I watched you die,” she asked, getting out of bed to walk over to him. 

Steve held out his hand, such the gentleman, yet she walked past, refusing to take it. She could handle a little hit to the head.

“Long story short, I faked my death. I’ve already had to explain this twice,” Nick sighed.

“And you thought it wouldn’t be important to tell me? Nick I…” she began. Saddened by the fact that even Nick wouldn’t trust her with this sort of thing. After all these years, after everything. She began to doubt if she was even worthy of it… trust.

“Any attempt on the director’s life had to look real. So we didn’t tell anyone, sorry Nat,” Maria gave her a sympathetic look.

Nat gave a weak smile to Fury before leaving the room. She didn’t know where she was going, but she didn’t care. Nobody trusted her. If Nick couldn’t, how in the world could anybody else. 

o0o

(one week after the graduation ceremony)

They had been training for Natalia’s first mission as the Black Widow. It would be with a group of agents, in which they would spy on a possible leak in the KGB. James had motioned her to the side before she would retreat to her quarters to get dressed out of her training clothes and into her gear.

“What is it, James?” she had asked, knowing they wouldn’t have much time alone in this hallway.

“I need you to know something,” he started and she rolled her eyes.

“If this has to do with the mission, just relay it to us during our briefing,” she muttered.

“No, this doesn’t… well it does.. but…ugh, I don’t know how to explain it Natalia, but since I’ve trained you, I’ve felt something. A sense of trust I haven’t really known before. Or at least that I remember,” he explained. Natalia stood there silent, not knowing what to say. “Trust is hard to come by here, I know that. I could be making a stupid decision by telling you this, but I trust you, Natalia. I wanted you to know.”

He then left as another agent passed through. She stood there, her feet frozen in place. Nobody had said that. Trust wasn’t ever something she thought she could depend on, the Red Room was an advocate for self reliance. But here James was, saying he could trust her.

Little did she know how that would be the spark to the love affair that burned them down.

o0o

“Natasha, wait!” Steve called after her, and she stopped walking. She honestly didn’t know where she was going. The dimly lit hallway seemed never-ending, only a spec of natural light at its end.

“I… I need to ask you something,” he walked up to her until they were side by side.

“Yeah, shoot,” she shrugged. Nothing that would come out of Steve’s mouth would surprise her.

“Do you know the Winter Solider?” 

Okay, scratch that. That very question that came out of Steve’s mouth had surprised her.

“And what gave you that idea?” she stared at him. The classic move would be to look away, since eyes were the main tell. Yet, Natasha had no tell, or at least she thought she hadn’t.

“You talked to him, in Russian, I think. But it wasn’t your normal talk, it was in a tone I had never heard you use before,” Steve continued.

Natasha only sighed, then slowly responded.

“Yeah, I knew him. He trained me and…” she let her voice fade off. “Why?”

“Because he was my best friend.”

Natasha didn’t know if it was from the blood loss, but all of a sudden she felt light headed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll continue this fic if you guys enjoy it. It was really fun to write and I'll continue it as a series if you want me to. Thank you for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an added chapter: James gets wiped again.

(James’ POV)

He felt angry. He felt sad. He felt heartbroken. He felt hurt. The important and most surprising thing was, he felt. He was feeling. After so long of not giving a care of what he did, as long as he followed orders. After so long of being broken and then remade into a weapon. After so long of just feeling numb, this new feeling was a shock.

Guards surrounded him. Doctors surrounded him, scientists too. And he lashed out. He didn’t want to do this again. After that fight, after that woman had spoken to him, something had awakened in him. A new feeling. And a blurred memory? He didn’t know, but he recognized her.

Pierce entered the room. 

“He’s unstable,” somebody told him, yet he continued to walk anyways.

The man, technically his handler or boss, stood in front of him and asked the question.

“Mission report.”

No, it wasn’t a question it was a demand. And James decided not to answer.

“Mission report,” Pierce said again.

James shook his head and then looked up at the older man’s face. And his mask broke. Before he could stop himself, he began talking, mumbling almost quietly to himself.

“That woman from the fight, I knew her…”

“You have met her on other assignments. She is one of your targets,” he explained.

“But, no….no…no, I knew her. She knew me…. she said… she talked and I… I know her. Who is she?” James nearly whispered. His eyes were glazed and glossy, his expression fully defeated. He looked so, so, broken.

“She’s your target, along with three others. You’ll have to terminate her,” Pierce stated, he looked at James worriedly. His weapon had never acted like this before.

“You’re work has been a great contribution to humanity, and now you must bring it to order. You must terminate Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. That is an order,” he added.

Na- Natasha? No, he knew… he knew a Natalia…. a Natalia Romanov…. Natasha?

His thoughts must’ve played out on his face, because Pierce sighed, annoyed.

“Wipe him.”

James didn’t fight this time. Maybe he was a weak to let them do this to him. He had obeyed when they took Natalia away from him the first time, and he was obeying once again. But that didn’t stop his thoughts from dwelling on the red head as they placed the mouthguard into his mouth. And it didn’t stop the single tear that streaked down his face once they turned on the machine.

They would always find their way back to each other. He believed that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm figuring out how to make this a series, but if I don't figure it out, I'll continue to add more chapters onto this story. Thank you so much for reading!


	12. Actually, this is chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo. I was just reading through this and found out that I had skipped an entire chapter! I'm so sorry, now this entire post is all messed up! This chapter takes place between the explosion at Steve's old army training camp and before Natasha and Steve fight for the couch (and Nat has her bad dream). I hope that helps. This chapter does include a flashback so I found that to be important. Again, I'm really sorry it's all out of order, please forgive me on this one!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Reminder: this is technically Chapter 5 (after/during explosion, before Nat's nightmare)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

The scientist, Zola, had been stalling. And now, there was a missile heading straight for them. They were locked in the bunker, seeming like there was no way out, until Steve called out her name.

He had removed a metal grate from the ground and motioned her to follow. The room was already collapsing in a fury of bright reds and oranges. Within a few seconds, if she didn’t hurry, they would be dead.

Just in time, Natasha made it into the small hole in the ground, taking cover under Steve’s shield. He grunted against the force of the building crumbling down, and the pressure was too much for her to handle. She passed out.

…

When Natasha woke up, she found herself in a clearing. A hammering headache made her head throb, but eventually it toned down enough for her to sit up and look at her surroundings. Some trees for cover, she was laid behind a bush on a soft patch of grass, there was no sign of any buildings nearby. Where were they?

“Good, you woke up. I got scared you wouldn’t,” Steve sighed while helping her onto her feet.

“It takes more than that to kill me, Rogers,” she quipped, her lips turning up into a smirk. But dang, her head did hurt like hell.

“Note taken,” he chuckled, then picked up his shield and began to walk out of the clearing. Natasha followed.

“Where’re we going now then?” she asked. “The closest safe house has to be hundreds of miles from here, too far to walk.”

She then paused before completing her statement, “Plus, I figured you wouldn’t run from the situation.”

“No, we need to take down HYDRA before they get those helicarriers into the air. I know a place.”

They ended up taking a ten mile trek to a person’s actual house. The whole journey made Natasha on edge. HYDRA wasn’t far off their trail, if they’re spotted walking on the side of the street looking like two survivors of a missile launch, things wouldn’t look so good. Plus, this “place” that Steve knew, was too public and too close to the city for comfort. But she trusted him and his judgement. It had saved her life multiple times already.

Steve knocked on the door and a man opened the door. The same man who she had seen taking a run with Steve that morning before the mission? Leave it to Steve to trust somebody after one nice conversation (plus some shared life experience).

“Hey, man,” he gave Steve and Nat a once over. She knew his thoughts: what the hell happened to these two? Why the heck are they on my doorstep.

“I’m sorry about this. We need to lay low,” Steve introduced.

“Everybody we know is trying to kill us,” Nat added.

“Not everyone,” he responded and let them in the door.

They entered the house, a nice one story that was clean and tidy. Natasha liked it better that way. 

“You guys can clean up in the guest room,” the guy stated, and led them through a hallway to a bedroom with a bath connected to it.

“Sam Wilson, I think we’ve only vaguely met,” he reached out to shake her hand. She took it and flashed a casual smile.

“Natasha,” she responded. “Thank you for taking us in.”

He shrugged off her reply. “It’s nothing.”

She laughed at his response, “Well if taking in two wanted, dead or alive, enemies of the state is nothing, I would like to see what you define as something.”

“What I’m saying is I don’t mind,” he sighed.

Natasha just nodded, and entered the guest room. Steve was in the bathroom, washing his hands or something, while she sat on the bed and dried off her damp hair.

She looked straight ahead, but her thoughts were somewhere else, on somebody else.

o0o

They had returned from the mission. After two weeks, the mob boss was dead along with his operatives. It took two weeks for her leg to heal. Two weeks until James had agreed they could complete the mission. They were supposed to complete it in two days.

Needless to say, none of the higher-ups would be pleased. They took James away first, removing him from the room. She watched out of the corner of her eye as three guards pulled him away, even though he did go willingly. His eyes met her’s before being taken fully out of the room. Something pleading in them, and sad too.

“This was a failure. Two weeks to complete a basic mission? I would love to hear your excuse,” Madame B spoke.

“The retrieving part of the mission was compromised,” she stated.

Madame B stepped forward and looked down at Natalia. It wasn’t a good enough excuse, not like anything would be, but this was barely even convincible. The lady brought her arm up and backhanded Natalia, hard. She was sure it would leave a mark.

“I’m only going to ask you this once more,” she said. Her mannerisms were purely calm, yet Natalia could sense the rage behind her eyes. “Why did you fail?”

She didn’t want to speak. They would only accept the truth. She was injured. But injuries mean nothing. You’re supposed to fight through the pain, not wait for it to subside.

Madame B slapped her twice this time. “Answer, widow.”

“I was injured,” Natalia stated. She looked down at the ground, knowing what would come.

“That is weak. You are weak,” she hissed. “It looks like we haven’t broken you in fully. After fifteen years of training, and with your graduation ceremony in a few days, I thought you would be better than this. But no, you’ve failed. And we don’t accept failure.”

All Madame B had to do was look at the guards for them to have her arms tied behind her back and pulling her into a back room. A dark room. A beating room. But Natalia didn’t struggle.

***

The next time she saw James was two days later, the day of her graduation ceremony. They were sparring, like they had since he had became her handler. But he seemed distract off. Every time he would look for an opening to advance on her, he paused. After a moment he just stopped.

“What is it, Soldat?” she asked.

He looked around the room, then sighed. Nobody was within sight nor earshot.

“You have bruises. Many of them. They beat you because of me,” he said guiltily.

“No, it was my own…”

“No, Natalia. It was because of me. I let you enter that building with all the henchmen, I forced you to rest. This is what they give you for it.”

His hand reached to touch the bruised skin, but Natalia flinched away at first. Eventually, she let his human fingers brush up against the purple skin. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. Even as he said this, she could tell there was something he wasn’t telling her. And there was something different about him as well.

“You’re looking at me with familiar eyes,” she said under her breath.

“What?”

“In the past, you would leave for months and then when you returned, you looked at me like I was a stranger. You have said we’ve only trained together for months, but it’s been two years James, nearly three.”

His eyes looked first scared, then confused, then they softened to understanding.

“What do they tell you when I’m gone?” he asked.

“That you’re on missions.”

“Those are lies. Many things here are lies. Your work, my work, all of it is for lies,” he stated. “I’m trusting you fully by telling you this.”

The solider took a deep breath then continued. “I go into cryo. It preserves my body. But they wipe my mind. In many cases, I forget what even happened the day before. Usually they do the wipes after intensely classified missions, or if I start to remember.”

“That’s why nobody can know your name. Why you can’t know your own,” Natalia breathed.

“Yes,” he said, then continued to whisper quickly. “There are lies everywhere Natalia. Your world is full of them. But there is a world out there with truth, with trust and kindness. I was part of that, I want to return to it.”

“You want to leave?!”

He looked at her scared. Scared that she was going to turn him in.

“Yes,” he sighed. “And honestly, what would make you want to stay.”

She thought it over. The brainwashing made her think that what she was doing was right. It made her think that pain was normal. That growing up here, in this setting, happened to all children. And even once she found it wasn’t, Madame B would assure her that this was her place with two sentences: You have no place in the World. This is your home.

“Nothing,” she came up with. “But we can’t escape. They’ll see for us to be dead before we can escape.”

James nodded. “I know. It’s a dream that we’ll most likely never obtain. But I want you to remember Natalia, keep track of the lies you’re telling. Know the truth in your heart, that way you don’t fall under their spell.”

They heard footsteps approaching and immediately began sparring. Three guards entered the room a few seconds later.

“Widow 8, it is time for you take your place in the Red Room. Madame B awaits your presence in the Grand Hall,” one said and waited in the doorway.

She knew…. she knew what was coming. Graduation, her procedure, a new code name, but all the same life. The life of taking lives. She looked to James one last time, with a quick glance, then left.

James saw it. Saw ever fear, every emotion, every thought running through her head in those eyes. And he remembered, she had said her eyes weren’t her tell. It was as if she did that by choice, let him see. Opened the floodgates and let him in.

She would become the Black Widow that day, and James knew her pain. As Natalia walked down the hallway, she repeated James words in her head. She had to remember the lies, she had to trust what she had left of a heart. He said she had one, so she believed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again sorry about the mess up! And I'm sorry if this confused the heck out of you.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! Things I could do better, parts you loved or just some sort of input would be amazing! This is going to be part of a series which I hope to complete soon (don't worry, I won't leave you hanging). Thank you all so much for reading!


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